


The Freshman and the Librarian

by Prodigal_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Kevin is a teenager, Light Bondage, M/M, Spanking, Tickling, also, and nerds being nerdy, but in the interest of full disclosure, it's not quite underage because the age of consent is different in different states, mostly fluff though honestly, sexy librarian!Sam, ticklish!Kevin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prodigal_anon/pseuds/Prodigal_anon
Summary: Kevin is a freshman at Princeton University.  College is a whole different world from what he's used to, but luckily the hot librarian is there to help him adjust (as well as providing a terrible distraction...)





	

Hard to imagine that Kevin had ever used to enjoy going to the library.

As a kid, there had been something magical to entering the hushed halls of books… even in the tiny public library in the small town where he’d grown up.  Maybe more so, growing up there.  Seeing the collections of ideas and stories that surpassed the experiences of the sleepy population of the rural town.  He’d been on first-names basis with the librarian there – the only adult in his life for whom that was the case.  When he was ten, he’d gone on a field trip to Chicago. He had visited the public library there and been stunned that such a building could exist, beautiful and filled with more books than you could read in years.  He’d taken pictures of it, with his digital camera that he’d won in a science competition.

Years passed, and Kevin came to associate libraries with the grueling climb towards his future.  Studying, learning, memorizing.  By the time he was in high school, he spent most of his free time in either the reference section or the computer lab.  The library became just a place to work. 

It paid off, eventually – the swap from magic to work.  Kevin got accepted to Princeton as intended, at sixteen years old, the pride of his town.  Or at least, the town’s teachers.  The farmers and factory workers may not have even realized.

On the day he left for New Jersey, he wore a tie and bade farewell to Channing – herself accepted to Berkeley.  They hugged and promised to send each other emails. Channing gave him a planner and a USB stick crammed with music.   

His mom came with him for the orientation – one of the few times they’d been able to travel together by airplane.  The flight from Grand Rapids to Philadelphia was a little under two hours.  The bus that transported them the rest of the way to Princeton took almost as long, due to the wall-to-wall traffic on the turnpike.  Kevin stared out the window at the cars, which was the only real difference he saw between Michigan and New Jersey.  Michigan, even Grand Rapids, simply didn’t have anything like this kind of traffic.  Maybe Detroit, but definitely not Neighbor, with its population of 2200.  Just as well, maybe, that he didn’t have a car.  He was getting anxiety just looking at the road.

So he was trading open air and country roads for cars, pretty much.  Not like Channing, who was probably going to be wandering the beach with a shirtless guy playing a guitar.

Didn’t matter, though, he was here for an education.  Kevin supposed he’d barely even see the city outside campus – probably wouldn’t even spend a lot of time in his dorm room, just wear a path between the classrooms and the library, only straying for the occasional extracurricular activities. 

They arrived and went through the whirlwind process of check-ins and orientations, meeting sponsors and advisors, and dumping his belongings off in the dorm room. 

In the evening, his mom said goodbye to him.  They cried, like everyone else, and his mom gave him his gift – a nice, upgraded phone, with instructions to _use it_.

“I’m putting you on speed dial right now, Mom,” Kevin said, examining the storage and the data plan.

“I already did it for you,” she replied.  She’d changed the background on the phone to a picture of the two of them, taken his graduation day, Kevin observed.

One final hug and she was gone. 

There were more meetings and socials that night to attend, and then around 11:15 Kevin was finally permitted to return to his dorm.  The roommate, whoever it was, hadn’t returned yet, though there was a big dufflebag with “Louden Swain Live!” printed on it, indicating he’d been there.  Kevin unpacked his suitcase, finding a surprise on top: Ms. Ziggy, a battered toy cat from when he was a child.  His mom must’ve snuck it in this morning.

He flopped on his bed, set his alarm on his new phone, and texted his mom. 

_You back all right?_

_Yes.  Eunice just dropped me off.  Long day_.  Here she put some ZzZ emoticons to indicate she was tired. 

_Lol Mom.  Yeah I’m tired too.  Lots of meetings_.  Tired-face emoticon.

_Well, get some sleep, honey.  You’ve got more tomorrow_!  Heart emoticon.

_Yeah.  Night mom_.  Heart emoticon.  ZzZ emoticon.

Kevin took Ambien, unwilling to risk lying in the unfamiliar bed for hours before sleep finally took him.

 --------------------------

The next day was also crammed full of meetings and orientations and other forms of formal socializing.  Kevin filled out a metric ton of paperwork, shook millions of hands and received a few tokens of validity from the college – IDs, meal cards, and the like.  He had a library card now, as well.  It was electronic, and allowed him to access any of the campus libraries. 

After they were dismissed for the day, Kevin went back to his dorm to drop off the armloads of junk he’d accumulated. His roommate still wasn’t there.  He’d been a dark lump under the blankets this morning, but Kevin hadn’t seen him yet.  At least he hadn’t made a lot of noise coming in last night.

Kevin sat restlessly at his desk for a few minutes, firing up his laptop and sending an email to Channing – then got up again. He grabbed his wallet, fatter now with various ID cards, and headed out into late evening haze that had settled over the campus.

He took a small unaccompanied walking tour of the campus – slowing to examine some of the places he hadn’t gotten a chance to look at earlier.  Some of the restaurants looked good – one of the perks of living in such a populated area, he guessed.  Though he didn’t see any Vietnamese restaurants, unfortunately. 

The sidewalks were filled with people walking around, stopping into shops or restaurants or classrooms along the way. The lawns, also, were filled with groups of people sitting around chatting and – yes, actually playing guitar with their shirts off.  So he’s not missing out on anything there, he scoffed inwardly.  The conversations he overheard varied evenly between simple chats about movies and parties, and talk about where they were supposed to be for class and how were they going to get to lecture on the other side of campus from where the lab was.

Back in Neighbor in Michigan, Kevin’s mom might be visiting Eunice or vice versa, but the usual evening pattern for the Trans was to be in by 8pm, doing homework or housework.  Most of the town was on the same page as them.  The setting sun made an already-sleepy town even sleepier.  If people were out at all, they were pretty much lazing around on their own lawns, drinking beers and turning over burgers on the grill.  If you stepped outside after 9pm, you’d hear nothing but silence, punctuated by the background noise of crickets or cicadas.  The idea of virtually the entire population of a large university hitting the streets and the sidewalks en masse to do things was alien to Kevin, and killed his notion of a quiet walk to sort out his thoughts.  He was equal parts intimidated by, and resentful of, the chatter of self-assured-looking students, all of whom were a couple of years older than him and had had that much more life experience.  Increasingly, the sheer quantity of people out and about on all sides was grating on him. 

He felt his nerves start to skew towards anxiety, but didn’t want to go back to his bleak little room – the first he’d had to share in his life.  He dithered for a brief moment, while pretending to be occupied texting someone on his phone, so he wouldn’t look as pathetic as he thought he might, before deciding to head to the library.

After a few wrong turns that took him harrowingly close to a gang of bros doing something stupid with a football, he found it.  Firestone Library loomed up in the deepening evening shadow, an enormous and solid old building that looked like a castle to Kevin:  tall, and built of weathered gray stone; a building of permanence and history.  The interior was just as cool, majestic and comfortable.  At this time of evening, before classes had officially started, it was virtually deserted, as he’d hoped. 

He looked around: it was a humanities and social science library, so he’d get a lot of use out of it.  Kevin guessed it was too much to hope that he might be able to stake out a corner of the library that was His, like he had at Neighbor Public High School.  There were too many people and the schedule was unpredictable.  But he had his eye on an old, huge, heavy table shoved into a back corner.

There were multiple study and reading areas with couches and desks, all deserted.  In some rooms, the desks had chandeliers!  And there was another room, with a high glass ceiling –it looked like an atrium, though there were no plants, and it was too dark to see the sky.  Still awesome, especially combined with the stone walls and tiled floor.  WAY better than linoleum and drywall. 

Kevin found a good angle and held his phone up, framing the stone walls and heavy wooden tables and high arched ceiling, taking a few pictures.  He’d send it to his mom, for sure, even though he knew what she’d send back – a text message saying _I don’t see you at one of those desks studying!_   Kissy-face emoticon.  She’d like it though.

He was holding his phone in the direction of the ceiling, wondering if he could capture it very well with this lighting.  It would look cooler in daylight, for sure, but daylight would bring people around, who would observe him taking photos of the library and think he was –

“It won’t turn out.”

Kevin startled badly, dropping his phone down two steps, prompting a gasp from him and the mystery voice behind him.  Concern for the phone provided a brief merciful distraction as he ducked to grab it – it was fine, luckily.  Thank God Mom had also sprung for one of those expensive Otterbox cases. 

“Oh – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – is it okay?”

Kevin turned around jerkily, to see a – ridiculously tall guy, with shaggy hippie California hair, standing up behind a heretofore unseen desk and looking distressed.

Kevin realized he’d been standing there blinking as the guy had asked again about his phone.  “Uh!  Y-yeah.  It’s, it’s cool.  I mean.  Not broken.  It’s, uh.  Fine.  Sorry.”  He flushed, feeling like an idiot, and was about to turn and flee when the guy’s face broke into a small, crooked grin, nailing him to the spot.

“Oh, good.  Sorry again.  I thought you knew I was here.” 

The idea that this guy had been watching Kevin wander around, gaping at the ceiling with his phone out like a fucking moron made him almost physically nauseous.  Kevin made a weak gesture.  “I didn’t… think anyone would be here at all…”

The guy sat back down, losing some of his imposing height.  “You’re actually the only student here as far as I know.  So, no one to be disturbed by the noise.”  He gave Kevin a little wink and a smirk.

Kevin’s face burned.  “I was just –“

“Taking pictures, yeah.  It’s fine, calm down. This building’s really nice, I took a few pictures myself when I first got here.  That’s how I can tell you that the photo won’t turn out if you take a shot of the ceiling at night.  You have to come by in the daytime.”

“Oh.”  Kevin felt his heartbeat slow ever so slightly.  “Uh.  So, you said, I was the only student?  So you’re not a student?”  He had no idea where he was going with this conversation, but he felt entranced.  Now that his brain was catching up to the situation, he was taking in some more important details: the button-down shirt that was _bursting_ with this guy’s muscles.  Seriously, he was _ripped_.  He probably knew all about protein bars and reps and gains and stuff, had to, there was no way that chest was natural – and yet, everything about his posture was saying “sensitive nerdy bookworm.”  Impossible, but there it was.

The guy resumed what he’d apparently been doing before, which was repairing books.  Okay, so he must be the – “…I’m one of the librarians.  Part-time.  Been working here three years now.  I’m a student though, a senior this year.”

“Oh,” said Kevin again, and then tried for more speech.  “Uh, so, this is a pretty good job, I guess, if you stayed here so long?  You must have taken a break this summer, though?”

“Well, I try to stay working here throughout the year,” the librarian said.  “It’s a pretty good gig, and believe me, the competition to get a job here is cutthroat.”  His long fingers wrapped delicately around an exacto knife, cutting down the length of the damaged spine of the book, and then carefully peeled off the battered, glue-covered binding.  “The pay is… okay, but the main thing is it’s convenient to work for the school.  Plus, since I’ve been working here since I was a freshman, I’ve been guaranteed my own carrel for writing my thesis, and afterwards when I enter law school.  Like, one of the old ones, not the little community ones.  Normally they’re reserved for grad students, but I’ve earned one this year.”  He looked up at Kevin and raised his eyebrows suggestively, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Like a private office.”

The librarian wrapped a piece of paper around the spine of the book, thumb and forefinger holding it in place, and used a pencil in his other hand to mark off the spaces he would need to trim.  The book, the paper, and the pencil were all dwarfed in his huge hands with their long fingers.

Kevin tried not to stare.

“Wow, so, uh, you’re – a senior,” he said, unintelligently.  “I’m a freshman.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” the librarian said kindly. 

“Oh.  Um, yeah, I guess I must seem… a little…” 

“Lost.  And also like you might be twelve?  The freshmen look younger every year.”  The librarian shook his head in wonder, continuing to mark papers along a graph chart, using a metal ruler to draw a line between the markings.

“I’m sixteen, actually,” Kevin said before he could stop himself.  Oh God, he was such a fuckup.  He was going to have to transfer to another state – another country – maybe just give up and hang himself –

The librarian raised his eyebrows again.  “Sixteen?  And you’re enrolled here?  You must be _smart_.”

“I uh, I guess.  More like, really good at doing what needs to be done for the college applications.” 

“The most important life skill.”  The librarian began to mark and cut some kind of fabric now.  Kevin was bewildered by this fixation he was developing.  The fact that the librarian was doing some kind of repairs to the spine of the book kept bringing the word into his consciousness – spine, spine, spine – making his own spine tingle in awareness.  This was a fucking weird thing to be thinking about, wasn’t it?

“You’re pretty good at that,” he said, gesturing to the table.  Which was also stupid, because it was the guy’s job, obviously he had some skill –

“I’ve had some experience with old books,” the librarian said, apparently nonplussed by the random change of subject.  He opened a drawer and removed a jar and a long, slender box.  “Even before I got this job.  One of the reasons I got it was that I was already qualified; no training required.  My family… we used to have to deal with books that were falling apart.”

“Oh.  Well, at least you got a sweet job out of it.”  Socially awkward though he was, Kevin was aware enough to pick up on the bleak tone in the librarian’s voice – wistful but with a clear undercurrent of anger.  He had heard that tone when Channing talked about the B- she’d gotten as a sophomore; when Eunice talked about her ex-husband; when Mom talked about coming to America as a child.  _Don’t ask, now is not the time_.  Even though he was dying to know what the hell kind of dark drama came from a family of antique book dealers, or whatever kind of business his family had run. 

Desperately, he cast about for something else to talk about, and settled on: “Do you play guitar?”

“Guitar?”  The librarian looked up at him quizzically, as his long fingers picked up a brush, dipped it into the pot of paste, and began whisking it across the bared surface of the book’s _spine_ and fuck, why was this something that Kevin was finding hot??  “No.  That’s the kind of thing my brother would be into.”  Shit.  He’d brought up family somehow, inadvertently.  He was messing up.

The librarian continued.  “…But I did buy a mandolin for twenty-five dollars recently.  Haven’t had the chance to do much with it yet.  Does that count?”  And he was doing that half-smile, half-smirk up at Kevin again, while pressing the fabric to the _spine_ of the book.

“Haha, yeah.  That’s cool.  I play cello.”  Kevin grinned at him.

The librarian set the book down in a nearby press, locking it in, and then looked up at Kevin with a steady, considering gaze that made Kevin positively squirm inside.  Then the smile-smirk was back and the librarian stood up, offering his hand.

“Sam,” he said. “Sam Winchester.”

Kevin took it, his own hand dwarfed in the librarian’s – Sam’s – huge grasp, long fingers wrapping all the way around the backs of his own.  “Kevin Tran.”  He managed to keep his voice steady.

It ended up being around midnight, again, when Kevin made it back to his room.  He had Sam’s phone number, which made him stupidly giddy.  His roommate was there, some dullard with a beard who ignored Kevin in favor of watching a science fiction movie a lot louder than he needed to.  No matter. 

Kevin took the Ambien again, to quiet the thoughts of shirtless librarians playing guitar, and fell asleep to the sounds of monsters and gunfire on his roommate’s TV.

\------------------------------------------

The weeks passed.  Kevin studied at Firestone almost exclusively – not just because of Sam, but because it was the library that had the most material he’d need, had the best ambience, and was close to his dorm (he spent as little time as possible in the dorm, and truthfully might not even recognize his roommate if they passed in the street). 

But also, yeah, because of Sam.

Sam was at the library regularly, working in the evenings from 8pm to 2am.  He smirked and winked at Kevin whenever he came in, but otherwise was the picture of studious professionalism.

Kevin came in after orchestra or math club or whatever other thing he had that afternoon, after classes, and after he’d grabbed something from the quick sandwich shop to eat.  He chose a carrel (one of the crummy wooden community ones) and forced himself to be methodical with his work, which could be… tough, but still, the echoes of the kid sitting in Shelby Public High School, working his ass off to get accepted to Princeton, would not allow him to blow it in the first semester just because the librarian was hot.  Even though the librarian was really, really hot, and was one of the smartest people Kevin had met.  And Sam was naturally smart, not like Kevin, who was genius but had been playing the system for success for years.

Sam didn’t say much about his past, but Kevin still got the clear impression from the tiny hints he got, that he’d been raised in abject poverty; had moved from one place to another to the point where he hadn’t finished a single school year at the same school; and had not been encouraged in his academic pursuits by his family (which was weird, because all he knew of Sam’s family was that they did something with antique books.  Maybe they stole them, and sold them on the black market??). 

But either way, in spite of these hurdles, Sam was smart enough that he’d gotten a full ride scholarship to Princeton.  That was amazing.  And a little humbling.  Sometimes, during one of their late-night chats, while Sam was sorting books to go back on the shelves, or photocopying papers, he’d get caught up in talking about one of his passions – history, or law, or mythology – and Kevin would be able to forget about the definition of Sam’s upper arms, and just drink in the knowledge that was contained beneath the California hair, listening as attentively as though he was in a lecture, almost wanting to take notes.

Then Sam would shrug off his jacket and drape it over a chair as he began stacking books, and Kevin became a red-faced, stammering idiot again.

Sam wore the button-down shirts almost exclusively, with or without a tie, and as the weeks passed by and the weather became colder, he sometimes added a sweater vest or jacket – or both – and the way these hallmarks of nerd fashion fit over his impossibly lean and muscular body was enough to drive Kevin to distraction.

It wasn’t as though Kevin had never done it before.  The age of consent in Michigan was sixteen.  Channing had googled it.  He’d lost his virginity to Channing when he was sixteen and two months; and they’d had steady, pleasant, unremarkable sex after that until this fall, when they’d parted ways.  Neither of them had been overwhelmingly passionate about it – both of them easily accepted it when the other one explained that they were too busy studying to have sex; that was a totally normal priority in their minds. 

This was the first time he’d ever really obsessed about it, though, and at the expense of studying.  It was discomfiting.  

(The age of consent in New Jersey was also sixteen, interestingly.  He’d googled it.  Just a thought.) 

He couldn’t tell if Sam was aware or not.  Sometimes, after hours, while Sam was stamping books or repairing them, Kevin would tear his eyes away from Sam’s fingers and see Sam with a small smile on his face, but his tone never changed.  He just continued talking seriously about weird legal precedents or a historical novel he was reading, and listened to Kevin’s stammered replies, nodding encouragingly as he started to gain confidence.

But there was the way that Sam shrugged off his jacket, looking over at Kevin as he did so, and shifted an entire heavy bookshelf, by himself, making it look as easy as though he was moving a rolling desk chair.  His muscles strained at the seams of the cardigan he wore.

There was the time Kevin reached up for a book high on the shelf, one that he could probably have gotten, but Sam was suddenly behind him, pressed against him, plucking the card with the Dewey Decimal number on it out of Kevin’s fingers, saying “here, let me get that for you –“

Or when Kevin was leaning over his desk to write down serial numbers from a periodical print out, and suddenly there was a tickly goose at his hip. He made a weird strangled yelp, quickly swallowed down, and looked over to see a grin vanish from Sam’s face as he gave Kevin a stern look. 

“Please lower your voice when students are studying,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Or the way Sam took his stack of books when Kevin was checking them out, and read their titles: “The Secret Beating Heart of Modern Politics,” “Unraveling Humanities: A Guide for the Curious.” He made them sound as though they were bodice-ripping sexy novels, except that he didn’t do anything different, just read the titles in his deep, quiet voice, raising his eyebrow and making Kevin flush and inwardly curse his professors for recommending the damn books.

But then, there was the time when Kevin mentioned cello practice, and Sam said something about how he probably had those “graceful cellist’s fingers” and Kevin had unthinkingly replied that Sam had those “intelligent librarian’s fingers.”  And they’d looked at each other for a moment before they both started laughing, trying to keep it quiet.

“Cellist fingers, like, calloused and twisted?”  Kevin giggled.

“Or librarian fingers, like, papercuts all over and covered in paste?”  Sam was chuckling and wiping his eyes.

And it was at that point when it occurred to Kevin that yeah, they were in fact both flirting with each other, mutually. It sent him into such a sheer panic that he avoided the library for almost a week afterwards. 

\----------------------------

He spent more time in his dorm room than he ever had previously, and couldn’t stand it.  It was so tiny and cramped and ugly; his roommate was so stupid and loud and ugly.   He went for walks and ran into the same problems he had on that first night: too many people crowding around, everywhere he went, and never shutting up.

Kevin called Channing on one of these walks, and didn’t have anything to say.  He’d kept in touch with her still, though it was clear they’d already grown apart.  She hadn’t gone surfing, she said, but she did go to the beach a lot.  She’d enjoyed the beach in Michigan, too, so that didn’t surprise Kevin.

“It’s different here than Michigan, though,” she’d said, and even though she’d been talking about the beach, Kevin agreed wholeheartedly. 

He made it through around twenty minutes of small talk, before Channing said she had to meet her friend for field hockey.  That managed to jolt Kevin awake in shock; Channing Ngo, an athlete?!

She said she was just doing it for fun.  “Intramural, women’s recreation.  Like, the lowest level of proficiency.  It’s just, something different, you know?  This first year is the time to try out new stuff.  We’ll have three more years to make our portfolios look good.  No one’s ever going to look over my resume at a job interview and wonder why I spent a couple hours a week doing field hockey in my freshman year.  Especially since I got to Berkeley.”

It was an interesting thought.  Kevin considered it as he ate a sandwich in the food court.  Sam hadn’t texted yet; they didn’t actually run into each other every day.  Sometimes it was several days before Kevin could make it to the library when Sam was on shift.  So Sam might not have realized that Kevin was having a meltdown. 

He tried to analyze it.  What was his problem, exactly?  Sam was hot, and friendly and smart.  For whatever stupid reason, Sam seemed interested in him as well.

Was that it?  Some insecurity issue?  Well, that wasn’t out of the question.  On the one hand: Sam.  Tall, athletic, organically genius, extremely good-looking, an accomplished senior.  On the other hand: Kevin.  Short, skinny, admittedly smart but not like Sam was, a scared freshman out of his depth. 

Kevin took some Valium and dragged his cello off to the band hall, to sign out a closet to practice in.  Going through the scales and a few bars of Yo Yo Ma calmed him down enough that he could call his mother after he got back. 

“Mom, you and Dad met at a dance hall, right?” he asked after they’d gone through the checking-in small talk.

“What?  Where’d this come from?” she asked, sounding bewildered.

“Just wondered.  I mean, I just went to a club the other day,” he lied. “It was 80s Night.  I tried to picture you and Dad there.  It’s hard to imagine.  I mean, Linda Tran, probably wearing a side ponytail and bicycle shorts under a tutu or something, and a tube top.  Rainbow-dyed hair.”

She was laughing.  “No, no, it was nothing like that.  It was a dance hall, but it was more like… a community thing.  I was wearing a sensible skirt and an ironed blouse.  Your grandparents were all there, and our relatives and neighbors.  Bà and Ông would never have let me leave the house if I’d worn what the white girls were wearing.”

“Oh.  Well, that’s easier to picture.”

“It was all very formal, which was actually a relief from all the drama in high school, even if it was a little boring.”

“I bet.”

There was a pause on the other line, and then his mom came back, sounding both amused and accusatory.  “Kevin, are you meeting some girl out there in New Jersey?”

“What?  No!”

“Uh huh.  Kiddo, I know all about you young people.  I might have guessed.  You, at a club?”

“I was in the hired band.”

She laughed again.  “Right, right.  Okay, Kevin.  Glad you’re having fun.  Just don’t let it distract you from your classwork _too_ much.”

“There’s no girl, Mom.”

“Okay, sweetie.  And just so you know,” here, she sounded – almost mischievous, completely different from the Mom he knew – “Your Dad and I did sneak out to a dance hall, later.  No tube top, but I was wearing leg warmers, a Flashdance sweatshirt, and bright pink tights!”

He groaned loudly, causing a small group of girls walking nearby to glance over at him.

Kevin didn’t really have other people he could call to ask for opinions.  Unless you counted Mr. Mahan, the AP chemistry teacher he’d gotten along with pretty well in high school.  Or one of the endless counselors available to students here at Princeton, according to the brochures everywhere with black-and-white pictures of young adults with their heads in their hands, and the words STRESS or DEPRESSION written across the top. 

Kevin didn’t want to have to resort to that in the first semester of his freshman year.  From personal experience, he didn’t have a lot of high hopes that the counselors here were going to say something he hadn’t heard the last two years anyway.

He walked past the Firestone Library.  It was mid-October now – getting cold enough in the evenings to need a coat.  The trees around the building had been changing colors the last six weeks, and were starting to drop.  They cluttered the sidewalks, whirling in the wind at his feet.  The lights were on in the library, as they would be for hours.  It was – Wednesday, 8:30 pm.  Sam would be there tonight, just getting on shift.  And normally, so would Kevin.

He went back into town.

There was a decent restaurant there that he’d been to once or twice – Chuck’s Spring Street Café.  Kevin normally got the veggie burger and Caesar salad, but as he often did when he was under stress, he ordered the Buffalo wings. 

The guy who set them out on the counter looked like a sad sack, short with shaggy graying hair and beard, though with bright blue eyes. 

“You all right?”

Kevin looked up.  “Huh?”

“I just asked you twice what sauce you wanted.”

“Oh.  Uh.  Whatever.”

The guy gave him a look and then brought out the Honey Barbecue with its green “mild flavor” label. 

“You look like you’re a mild kind of guy.”

“I can handle spice.  I’m not a kid,” Kevin snarled, pouring out the sauce.  God, that didn’t even make sense.  The guy raised his eyebrows and his hands, not looking for a fight, and took off to the kitchen again.

He munched moodily on his wings, allowing his eyes to glaze over in the general direction of the TV, and eventually the guy came back, plunking a little carton of fried… something, in front of him. 

“Jalapeno poppers.  On the house.”

Kevin looked up, a little guilty now that he’d had some time to stew.  “I didn’t – “

“Don’t worry about it.  Some guy forgot his order.  You look like you need a break.”

Kevin shook his head, though he helped himself to the poppers.  “Way too early in the year for that shit.”

“Never too early to have a shitty day, buddy.  Trust me on that.”

Kevin sighed.  “Shitty week.   All self-inflicted.”  Why was he being drawn into a conversation with this guy?

“Yeah, they are a lot of the time.  Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?  You’re still just a kid.  Don’t worry so much.”

It was wildly unprofessional and more than a little offensive – but instead of getting mad and storming out, Kevin shrugged without comment and continued to eat.

Well.  That was three out of three in favor of just relaxing and not worrying so much.

Kevin left when the restaurant closed and went back to his dorm.  There was a sock on the doorknob, which he observed with curiosity and disgust.  He gingerly flicked it off with his sleeve, and let himself into the room, where he was immediately faced with his roommate, standing around in his boxers, gaping over at Kevin in shock.

“Dude, what the fuck!  Didn’t you see the sock?”

“Huh?  Yeah – that was gross, what was – “

“DUDE.  GET OUT.  My girlfriend’s in the bathroom right now taking a shower.  Don’t you know what the fucking sock means??”

“The – what…?” 

“Get lost!  Shit, dude, come back in a few hours!”

“Where am I supposed to-?!” 

The bathroom door was opening, and Kevin had just enough time to see a curvy blur of pink skin before he was shoved unceremoniously out the door, which clicked shut behind him.

He heard a feminine voice, raised in a question; then Matt’s voice, replying.  A noise of surprise from the girl, and then they both started laughing.  Kevin turned and stalked away down the hall.

Mortifying.  How the hell would he have known that?  He’d never had a roommate, never shared living quarters with anyone but his mother, and the idea of having sex in her house was – unthinkable.  He and Channing had done it in her parents’ cabin on the lake, when no one else was there.

Go back in a few hours.  Where else was he to go?  The restaurants were closing.  The student centers were open, but noisy and bright. 

His footsteps took him to Firestone, dragging reluctantly.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t made up his mind to go back – he’d had his freakout and now he was over it – but he wasn’t quite ready.  He really wanted to plan out how he was going to approach Sam next, what he would say, how he would handle it. 

And yet, there he was, standing before the doors of the castle-like building. 

Kevin slid his library card through the reader to let himself in.

It flashed red and buzzed at him alarmingly.

He blinked, and tried it again.  Same result.  He peered inside – maybe it was closed?  But no, there were a few people inside.  And… there was Sam.  Sitting at the reception desk, facing away from him, stamping books.  He had a rhythm down when he did this, a smooth continuous motion that was graceful the way he did everything gracefully. 

Kevin tried the card reader again. As it flashed red, he realized what the problem was and groaned softly before retrieving his phone and sending Sam a text.

_Sam?_

He could see the tall figure straighten as the message came to him.  Sam turned, and picked up his phone from where it lay on the table behind him.  Kevin pictured the furrowed brow as he watched him type.

_Hey, Kevin.  Haven’t seen you in a while.  What’s up?_

_I’m outside the door.  Can you come let me in_

Inside, Sam turned around, looking surprised.  He probably couldn’t see outside, given how dark it was.  He came up, though, opening the door.

“Kevin?”

“Hey, Sam…Uh, can I come in?”  Kevin asked.

“Kev – yeah, it’s not like – it’s a library.  Did you forget your card or something?”

“No, I didn’t forget, I just – it wouldn’t let me in.  I just remembered.  It’s because I forgot to turn in the book about the Subversive Revolutionary, so it disabled my entry until I turn it in,” Kevin said resignedly.

Sam laughed and stepped over to touch his shoulder, leaning in close:  “You know what the penalty is for overdue books, Mr. Tran?” he asked in his deep, soft voice.

Kevin shivered and his face flamed.  “Uh, I uh…” he stammered, unable to think of any rejoinder.

Sam held the door open and tugged him inside, smirk-smiling at him again.  “You’re a lot of fun, Kevin.  I missed you this week.  Busy?”

Sam didn’t know, hadn’t realized.  The eternity Kevin had spent agonizing about it, Sam had just chalked up to a busy week.  And that, too, must be part of adulting, this thing where you didn’t have to account for every hour or every emotion.  Kevin decided, then and there, not to tell Sam about his momentary lapse of courage, his inexperienced faltering.  He could still get through this thing without the dramatics.

“Yeah.  Pretty busy.  Orchestra is having a regional performance soon.”  This was true, though it was a simple enough selection--one that Kevin had been playing for years--that he didn’t feel a compelling need to log extra practice sessions.  Especially not at the expense of these library visits.

“Did you just finish a practice tonight?  You’re here pretty late.”

“Well...”  Kevin trailed off and sighed.  “I mean, I was going to come here anyway, but.  I kind of had to.  My roommate…. Left a sock on the doorknob tonight,” he pitched his voice in a knowing, can-you-believe-it sort of way, as though he hadn’t literally just learned tonight what that meant.

Sam needed no explanation.  He chuckled quietly and placed one giant hand on Kevin’s upper arm, completely encircling it, pulling him along gently, which was… enticing. 

He led Kevin back, deep within the library, to a row of tiny offices, all locked.  Sam went to the one that had little plaid flannel curtains on the windows, and unlocked it.

“My carrel,” he said proudly, opening it to reveal – a tiny, closet-sized office, only big enough for a desk and a two-by-three foot floor space, with a plush rolling chair that took up a third of the room.  Shelves on the wall over the desk were filled with books and papers. 

“I’m a little bit behind on my nightlies – had to help a bunch of kids find their research.  Freshmen.  Can’t do anything with them.”  He winked at Kevin.  “You can hang out back here – there’s a mini fridge under the desk with soda if you want.  I’ll come back when I’m caught up.”

Kevin watched him stride back between the rows of books, broad shoulders seeming to brush both sides at once.  He leaned back in the desk chair, feeling worn out by the past few days, but also oddly triumphant.  Granted, his anxiety hadn’t quite escalated to a full-blown panic attack, like he’d had in the past, but still.  There’d been a problem, and he’d freaked out about it, but then come back and handled it like an adult with no one the wiser.  Except that weird guy at Chuck’s restaurant.

He had a soda and flipped through a book on the shelf: “Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife.”  It was written by Mary Roach, who was one of Kevin’s favorite science writers.  She was hilarious.  He’d only read her articles, though, and hadn’t seen this book.  He read through two chapters before someone knocked on the door to the carrel.

It was a small man in a janitor’s gray coveralls, looking quizzically at him.  “Hey, buddy, you know the library’s closing?”

“Oh, uh – I was just waiting for my – friend.  Sam?”

The janitor nodded in understanding.  “Ah, okay.  Sammy Winchester, got it.  Well, he’s closing up now… no one else here.”  The man gathered his wheelie cart of supplies, which Kevin hadn’t heard – must have been too engrossed in the book.  “Janitorial done!” he called out.

“Okay, thanks!”  called Sam from the front of the building. 

Really?  It was already that late?  Kevin wondered if he’d dozed off.  He stepped outside the office and looked around.  The janitor had already vanished.  The whole place, as he’d said, was empty, which Kevin hadn’t seen since that first day.

He could hear Sam’s long stride coming back, and then he appeared.  He’d put on a jacket at some point tonight, over his usual button-down, with a tie this time.  Kevin felt a little underdressed in his hoodie and jeans.

“Hey, sorry,” Sam said.  “Mid-terms.  People panicking.  Keeps me busy.  I hope you weren’t too bored.”  He locked up the little office. 

Kevin shrugged.  “It’s fine.  I had a lot to think about.”

“Oh?  Like what?”  Sam turned off the lights in that section; the area was now only dimly lit by some lamps in a nearby reading area, walled off by a few sections of bookshelves.

“How different college is from high school.  And how different New Jersey is from Michigan.”

“A lot to take in.”

“Some things are the same, though.  For example.  Did you know that the age of consent in Michigan is sixteen years old?”

Sam’s body stilled in the half-light.

“Same as in New Jersey,” Kevin added.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about for the last two hours?” Sam’s voice was husky.

“Longer than that.”

Sam turned towards him, the motion restless, like he was containing himself.  “Kevin – are you sure?  I don’t want you to feel like you – “

Kevin took a chance and cut him off.  “ _And_ I was thinking about my overdue library book.  I bet you know what to do about that.  I know what I want, Sam; I’m not a kid.”

And suddenly, abruptly, he was in the air, almost bewilderingly fast.  Sam moved like a damn snake!  Scooping his arms under Kevin’s thighs and hoisting him up, clutching him to Sam’s body.  “You are _such_ a kid,” he growled as he took them both away to somewhere in the dark.  “Such a baby-faced kid.  This perfect little innocent with a perfect little ass.  You know how many times I’ve wanted to – “

He didn’t finish his rhetorical question, just pressed Kevin down into the cushions of one of the longer couches in the nearest reading area.  Kevin was frankly shocked, though not in a bad way. This sense of having unleashed a beast that had been contained in those respectable shirts and jackets, sitting politely behind a library desk – it came as a surprise to his brain, although his dick was already several steps ahead of him in taking interest.

He realized that Sam was waiting, hands braced on either side, watching to see if Kevin was into this or not. Kevin stopped gaping and wrapped his hand around Sam’s (holy shit, rock-hard muscular!) shoulder, pulling him down for a kiss.  Kevin had no idea what he was doing, but tried to follow Sam’s lead – Sam seemed well-practiced at it.

After a moment, emboldened by his success, he reached down between Sam’s legs, gratified to feel that he was also getting hard quickly.  Sam gripped his hands and pulled them up, pinning them over his head, and _fuck_ did that fire Kevin up.

“Not a chance,” Sam said. “You keep your hands to yourself.  Tonight’s my night.  I want to watch you come apart when I take your dick in my mouth.”

“H-uh.  Bold,” Kevin managed to gasp out, making Sam chuckle against his throat.  He began kissing Kevin’s neck, breath hot on his skin, while his free hand squeezed Kevin’s ass.

“Overdue library book.  Making noise in a quiet study environment.  Not returning your materials where they belong.”

“That was only _once_ – “

“Don’t try to get out of it,” Sam said. “There’s a penalty for all that.  A punishment.”  He released Kevin and leaned back, slowly shrugging his jacket off in the dim light. 

Kevin was left breathless again at the sight of Sam’s muscles underneath the scholarly jacket.  He gaped nakedly as Sam’s long fingers tugged at the knot of his tie in the dark, leaving the impression of a long shadow slithering off from around his neck. 

Sam was staring down at him, tie wound now around his wrist, unbuttoning the top couple of buttons on his shirt.  “Tell me what you want,” he said, voice soft but commanding.

“Uh.  Uh.”  Kevin tried to drag himself into sentience.  “I uh.  Want your hands.” 

“Yeah?  You’ve liked my hands a pretty long time.”  So he’d noticed – well, Kevin hadn’t been exactly subtle. 

“P-papercuts and paste,” he said, mouth dry. 

“That’s not all they’re good for,” Sam said.  Kevin could see the smirky smile was back.  “How about this tie, Kev?”

“Uh?  Your tie?”

“You want me to use that on you?” 

It took Kevin a moment to absorb what was being said, and then a soft little noise left his throat without him intending it.  Sam wanted to tie him up.

Sam leaned back down over him, fingers playing at the hem of his hoodie.  “Is that a yes?”

“Yeah.  Yes.  Do that.” 

Sam sloooooooly skimmed his long fingers down over Kevin’s ribs and sides, not quite enough to tickle, but enough to take Kevin’s breath away with the possibilities and raise a trail of goosebumps in their wake.  Sam grabbed the hems of Kevin’s hoodie and t-shirt and pulled them both over his head, leaving Kevin shivering slightly in the cool air of the library, chilled by the faint breeze of the ceiling fans that he wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been lying there bare of chest and soul.  He was glad it was dim in the room, so Sam wouldn’t see what kind of stupidly eager face he was probably making… oh.  Well, actually, dim though the lighting was, he could pretty easily see Sam’s face.  The librarian’s face was hungry.  No other word for it. 

He made short work of Kevin’s sneakers and jeans, sliding off each shoe and sock.  A weird, high-pitched gaspy squeal came from Kevin’s throat as Sam drew the stubble of his face across first one bare sole and then the other, making Kevin’s toes curl reflexively, while a heat began to pool in his belly.  Kevin was naked now, save for his darkest blue boxer-briefs (and thank FUCK that he’d worn those instead of his Batman prints, Kevin thought feverishly).  His heartbeat pulsed throughout his entire body as he rested below all that was Sam.  Sam, Kevin noticed, was still fully clothed, muscles straining at the cloth with every slight movement, and it made Kevin feel hyper-aware of his own near-nudity.  _Vulnerable_ , the word drifted across his mind.

Leaning down, Sam kissed Kevin, and kept kissing, deep and slow, as he wound the tie around and around Kevin’s wrists.  Kevin was lost in the feeling, dizzy with the pleasure of it, breathing in traces of aftershave and book glue.  Shit, this was – really happening?  He was really doing this with Sam the hot librarian.  The thought made him giddy with anticipation.  He didn’t resist as he felt Sam pulling his boneless body forward, with Sam leaning back –

-And then Kevin found himself stretched over Sam’s lap, facedown, his ass up in the air, his wrists securely bound as Sam gripped the ends of the tie in one hand.  The other hand was, for the time being, innocently playing over his ass, drumming and squeezing as though Sam had all the time in the world.  When Kevin craned his neck back, he could clearly see the smirk on Sam’s face, which meant there was no way Sam could miss the way Kevin’s eyes widened and his face apparently caught fire as he realized the implications of this position he was in.

“Wuh, way, w-wait, I don’t – you’re not gonna -!!”  Kevin stammered and squirmed as Sam’s fingers traced lightly over his cotton-covered backside, leisurely. 

“You heard me say you’ve earned a punishment.  What did you think I meant?”  The dark amusement in Sam’s voice was both scary as fuck and also one of the hottest things Kevin had ever heard.  If Kevin really didn’t want a spanking, someone needed to tell that to his rapidly rising cock, which Sam definitely had to be able to feel, pressing hard into his thigh.

Kevin opened his mouth with no clear idea of what he planned to say.  “I, I, uh, I –HEYOWTCH!!!” 

He yelped as Sam’s heavy hand came down on his upturned bottom, followed quickly by two more of the same.  He struggled, tugging in vain at his bound wrists, and received more spanks for his trouble.  Jesus, Sam’s hand felt HUGE, his ENTIRE ass was stinging.

Sam paused, hand resting on the now-burning cheeks, and Kevin’s wiggles lessened while he gasped shakily.  Sam’s smooth, deep voice washed over him.  “Those were for your overdue book.” 

_Smack_.  Kevin squeaked; fuck but Sam had a man-sized swing.  “That was for not returning your materials.”

_Smack_.  “Princeton is a proud university and our library and resources are to be treated with respect.”

Another pause, and Kevin licked his lips, gasping again and shaking all over with adrenaline.  Sam’s hand rubbed over his ass, soothingly.  “Hmm,” said Sam, consideringly, and fuck if that one small noise didn’t make Kevin’s dick go harder yet.  “I think I have something different in mind, for your punishment for all that noise you make in my nice quiet library.  Something more appropriate for being disorderly, and disrupting the students.”

He lifted Kevin a bit, just enough to move a leg over both of Kevin’s.   With his wrists tied and held out in front of him, and now his legs trapped between Sam’s, Kevin was well and truly under Sam’s control, and he couldn’t quite believe how hot it was.  He’d never been this turned on before, literally never in his life.  He loved it.  And from the looks of it, it was possible that Sam was loving it even more.

“Since you have no respect for the quiet study atmosphere in this library, here’s your punishment.  You will need to be totally silent, to pay for making noise before.”

More spanking?  Kevin might not actually have too hard a time staying quiet.  The spanks had been such a jolt, shocking him, that he hadn’t made all that much noise –

Oh.  Oh, shit.  Sam’s fingers started to play faster and lighter, spidery over the flesh of his waist.  Kevin squirmed and bit his lip.

“If you make a sound, you are _really_ going to pay for it,” Sam told him with maddening cheerfulness. 

Kevin wanted to say something defiant, something to goad Sam, but didn’t actually dare to open his mouth.  Sam’s fingers were tickling and teasing in an awful way – skittering over his bare flesh and making Kevin start to twist around on Sam’s lap.  A wide grin split his face and he buried it in the couch cushions.

“Oh, I think you like this, don’t you?”  Sam’s voice was teasing and terrible.  He reached underneath Kevin to swirl his huge index finger around Kevin’s belly button – Kevin arched his back and barely managed to swallow a giggle, flopping away to the side.  Sam’s fist still gripped the ends of the tie, holding Kevin’s wrists out and leaving his armpits exposed next.  Voiceless laughter began to shudder through him.

“Let’s see.  Where are all the places you might be ticklish… here, yes, and here, and here, and – oh, yes?  Right here under your arms?  That’s a good spot?”  Sam’s fingers scribbled, light but insistent, at the taut flesh and tears came out of Kevin’s eyes as he tried to contain his mirth.

“You’re bearing your punishment well.  But I’m pretty sure I can break you.”  At that threat, Kevin’s cock swelled again, hot against Sam’s thigh, and Sam chuckled before pulling up on Kevin’s wrists, allowing him to tickle the soft skin of Kevin’s belly.  Kevin gasped and tried to suck in, stomach trembling as Sam explored all over. 

“I want to hear that cute little noise you made a while back.  When I did this – “

Sam’s fingers skittered down Kevin’s waist to tweak at the jut of his hipbone.  Kevin made a totally unmanly squeal then, the noise ringing out in the stillness of the library, and hunched over defensively, which drove his backside into the air again, helplessly obscene.

Sam’s voice sounded smug.  “Aaaaand, you lost.  Consider your punishment intensified.  Very nice reaction, though, Kev.  I’ll keep that one in mind,” he said, scurrying his fingers along Kevin’s side fast now, and digging into his ribs. 

Kevin snickered and twisted away, yanking his hands down and whirling around.  “You dick!” he had time to exclaim, before Sam was upon him again, and Kevin was shrieking and giggling, noise pouring out of him into the still air of the library.  He thrashed uselessly against the couch, trying to pull his body this way and that to get away from Sam’s fingers.

“You’re pretty hot when you’re wriggling around like that,” Sam said, “I think I like it.”

“Y-you’re a bahastard,” Kevin was trying not to pant and failing utterly.  His dick was beginning to leak through the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs, the drops of precum leaving wet spots, and there was a brief stab of uncertainty – was that some kind of faux pas maybe?? – but the thought was gone an instant later as Sam’s fingers made their way to the backs of Kevin’s thighs and he actually screamed, spine going totally rigid, before flopping down and laughing silent and helpless.

“Oh, well!  So this is the spot, is it?  Here comes the _real_ punishment,” Sam sounded positively gleeful and let go of Kevin’s wrists at last to attack his legs with both hands.  It was the most awful thing ever, bar nothing, and Kevin couldn’t get enough.  His body vibrated with desperation to get away, while his dick nearly throbbed with excitement.  He couldn’t even do anything with his bound hands.  The tickling just shot white electricity through his entire body and left him unable to do more than squeal in laughter and gasp for breath.

After nine eternities of this, Sam stopped, leaving Kevin slumped bonelessly over his lap. 

“Uh huh.  Let’s see if you break any library rules after this,” Sam said, sounding unbearably self-satisfied.  Kevin couldn’t even work up the energy to offer any snark. 

Sam drew his fingers slowly along Kevin’s back, making him twitch; but the fingers didn’t _quite_ tickle.  “You took your punishments very well.  I’m impressed.  I bet you’ve learned your lesson.”

Kevin snorted.  “Dick,” he managed hoarsely. 

Sam laughed.  “Still defiant?  I’ll see if I can teach you some manners.  But, speaking of dicks…”

With that scary strength like before, Sam shifted Kevin easily, as though Kevin weighed nothing at all.  He adjusted Kevin so that he was sitting upright in Sam’s lap, facing the librarian.  Kevin gaped at him with lusty and dazed eyes, and Sam smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the nose before pushing him carefully back, so that Kevin was lying flat along the length of Sam’s legs.  His own legs splayed out to the side, and he was dimly aware that his precummy underwear was very exposed now; but he was too buzzed with desire to care.

Sam gently used his foot to pull down on Kevin’s arms, so that his wrists dangled down to the floor.  Sam carefully threaded his leg through Kevin’s arms and stepped on the ends of the tie, holding them in place.  He then leaned back and took in the sight of Kevin in his lap, boneless and panting, erection poking through his boxers. 

The long librarian’s fingers traced over Kevin again, slower this time, starting at the armpits and dragging their way down Kevin’s ribs, his waist, over his belly button, tweaking his hips.  Kevin chuckled and squirmed a little, but otherwise kept his eyes on Sam’s face.

“…speaking of dicks,” Sam continued, tugging at Kevin’s underwear, exposing Kevin’s dick and ass at last as he maneuvered the fabric off Kevin’s legs and tossed them to the side.  “…since you’re all wound up and turned on… seems like a shame to waste it.  Even though you’ve been so bad.”

“Oh fuck, _please_ ,” Kevin breathed, lifting his hips for emphasis.  Sam laughed again. 

“Damn, Kevin, you really need it, don’t you?  All right.  Try not to _faint_.”

Before Kevin had time to be offended by that, Sam had gripped his thighs in his huge hands and lifted him up, pulling Kevin’s crotch up to his face, and started licking at the hot shaft. 

A seriously breathy moan came from Kevin then, like something in a softcore porn movie, just pulled out of him easily by Sam’s fucking mouth.  Sam nuzzled his legs with that damn scruff again, smiling as Kevin’s skin quivered; he nibbled lightly at the flesh of Kevin’s thighs; he licked lightly over Kevin’s hole, tongue flicking gently, and huffed in amusement as the muscles tightened against the sensation; he took Kevin’s balls in his mouth and just lightly sucked and licked and Kevin thought it was possible that he really might faint. 

The whole time, Sam was supporting all of Kevin’s weight in his two hands, holding his lower body up easily while Kevin wrapped his legs over Sam’s shoulders and moaned and whined and pleaded. 

Eventually – after too, too long, in Kevin’s opinion – he finally took Kevin’s cock in his mouth and began to suck on it earnestly, drawing his wet lips along after each long pull on Kevin’s dick, tongue sliding over and around and lapping up the sides.  He maintained a steady and infuriatingly slow pace while Kevin made increasingly desperate noises.

At one point, a flash of clarity struck Kevin – that while Sam was doing these magnificently terrible things to his dick, he had a perfect view of Kevin writhing and gasping and begging on his lap, and the thought of how exposed he was to Sam did him in.  He shuddered, abruptly, eyes slamming shut as he stammered out an incoherent warning:  “S-sa-ham!”  And his body arched like a bow and he came, pouring out into Sam’s mouth while the long fingers kneaded his legs and ass encouragingly.

Kevin didn’t know how long it took for him to finish – it was probably less than ten seconds, he guessed, though it felt like twenty minutes.  But eventually he was done, and he was being pulled upright in a daze.  Sam kissed his neck and untied the tie around his wrists, murmuring something that Kevin couldn’t hear around the roaring in his ears.  Distantly he noted that Sam was using the tie to clean Kevin up, and that was definitely a memory he was going to hold onto for the next time.

Kevin slumped over against Sam’s warm body, shaking his wrists lightly now that they were freed, and somewhat shyly looked up at Sam – only to find, to his relief, that the sexy times had shifted, and Sam’s face was back to something approachable and intrinsically nerdy.  If Kevin hadn’t been lying naked in his lap.

“Well, I hope that improved your mood,” Sam said, toying with the dip of at the top of Kevin’s ass, where the cleft started, just lightly enough not to tickle, though Kevin thought Sam might have liked the way he wriggled a little to get away.

Sated now, Kevin felt warm and boneless and tired. When he opened his mouth to reply to Sam, an enormous yawn nearly cracked his face in half.

Sam snorted and gave his butt a playful slap.  It stung, but distantly.  “Hey, come on, I know I did better than that!”

Kevin was embarrassed again, but this time he turned his reddened face up to Sam with a sheepish grin, all the worry fucked out of him.  “Yeah, you were fine, Sam,” he said, with enough fake swagger that Sam snickered again.

“Just wore you out, is that it?”

“Actually, yeah.  I’m not big on cardio like you, you know, that was a lot of work for me!”

“ _I_ did all the work!”

Kevin stretched lazily and buried his face in Sam’s chest.  “I just can’t keep up with you.  I’ll need… lots and lots of practice.”

“Listen to you.  Greedy little twerp,” Sam said, sounding smug.  “Well, the first key to keeping up with me is sleeping more than four hours a night.”

Kevin scoffed.  “Like that’s gonna happen.  My stupid roommate’s getting laid tonight too, remember?”

“Ah, yes, the sock.  I remember those days.  Dorm life.”

“Kind of gross, if you ask me.”

“Kev, you just had sex in a public house of learning,” Sam said, not unkindly. 

“Yeah, but…” Kevin realized he had no moral high ground here, so he shrugged instead.

Sam snickered again and wrapped his huge librarian’s fingers around Kevin’s skull, pulling him in closer.  “Well, how does this sound?  I have an apartment off-campus…” he murmured.

“That sounds fucking awesome,” Kevin opined.

\------------------------------

Kevin slept for eleven hours, no Ambien, and missed class the next day – the first time in his entire life that he’d done so without being deathly ill, with a doctor’s note.

Sam missed his, too, and assured him it was no big deal.

\---fin---

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Balder12 and BellaRisa for helping me to write this!! And massive thanks to kuwlshadow for their awesome illustration!!! I love Kevin's hair, kuwl!!


End file.
